Three Months' Time
by Talking Hawk
Summary: A sort of AU of how Gandalf met Bilbo (and decided that he would make a suitable burglar). No slash.


Three Months' Time By Talking Hawk  
  
Author's Note: It is my own personal opinion that Tolkien was rather vague on the lives of the Maia. Others may feel differently about this, but I wanted to make an attempt to make the lifestyles and education of this fascinating group of people more tangible for the rest of us. Also, while I know that Gandalf was associated with hobbits long before the time of Bilbo Baggins, I wanted to write this. Please understand (a title of another of my fics.hehehe) that I'm taking artistic license. Don't hurt me! =)  
  
"Hobbits really are amazing creatures. You can learn all there is to know about them in a month, but even after a hundred years, they can still surprise you." - Gandalf  
  
* * *  
  
"I have a new assignment for you all," an elderly Maiar stated, crossing his arms. He leaned against the wooden desk at the front of the vast room, filled with younger wizards that were trying to heighten their status. The students had been taking such courses for many years, the most basic of these being primarily focused upon the learning of how to use their staffs to prompt magical spells. However, as the courses increased in difficulty, there was a less focus on magic, and a greater of that of the peoples of Middle Earth.  
  
The portion of the room that the students sat in made a sort of rigid half- circle. The elongated desks sat upon a large sort of stair, and then folded three ways so that the center portion of the level was parallel with the mentor's desk. There were about seven levels that reached up into the ceiling near the back of the room. Each seat was filled with a busily scribbling apprentice Maiar.  
  
The location of this "school" for Maiar could not be easily related to someone who did not attend. To prevent the entrance of any mortals, the place was established in a sort of "center" realm - a sort of pocket in the world. The only way to enter this place was to walk through one of the three entrances, but there was one dire problem with this - the entrances changed locations!  
  
How the student Maiar ever found these doors could not be easily explained either. It was assumed that it was a sort of sixth sense that led them to the tree trunk or the abandoned well - wherever the entrances decided to appear, for they had a mind of their own. The unfortunate wizards that did not possess this skill were forced to follow the more gifted to the location. Gifted or not, every lesson there would be at least one Maiar who would walk in fifteen minutes late.  
  
The belated student this day was an indigo-robed Maiar. He hung his head in embarassment, and quickly shuffled to his seat. The master eyed him, and spoke, "Excellent for you to join us, Ruffan."  
  
"My apologies, Professor Optum." he spoke softly, his head still lowered. "Apparently that abandoned badger hole wasn't so abandoned after all." The Maiar that had entered through the two other portals burst up into laughter, but those that had been unfortunate enough to enter through that particular entrance chuckled nervously. Their own encounters with the fiery creature was not something they could easily retell to their friends.  
  
"Now," Optum said, cutting the laughter short of itself, "as I was saying - I have a new assignment for all of you." Ruffan drew out his parchment, feather, and ink while the other Maiar held their writing utensils ready. The professor's smile melted into a look of solemnity. "I'm not quite sure that in all of your years here, you have yet to understand what it really means to be a Maiar." The students blinked at their teacher curiously. The only one who kept his composure was a green-robed Maiar, one with medium-length grey hair and a steadily growing grey beard. His light blue eyes remained concentrated on the professor.  
  
"Other than casting a bunch of spells," he explained, "a Maiar's first responsibility is to the people. We are an even more ancient race than that of the Firstborn, the Elves. The peoples of Middle Earth look up to us for guidance - for sound knowledge." The smile, again, played on the man's lips. "Therefore, I have come up with a bit of a field study for you." He paused momentarily for dramatic effect, all the feather pens in the room poised above their parchment. "For three months," Optum spoke, "you must live among and learn everything you can about a race of your own choice."  
  
The room burst into loud whispers, some of agreement, some of detest - but all of interest. Finding such a thing disrespectful, Professor Optum glowered at his pupils. "Silence, *all* of you!" he exclaimed. The students complied, returning their attention to their elder.  
  
"Now," Optum coughed, "you have three months' time to complete this assignment. If your report fails to pass, then you will be denied your color advancement. A list is posted near the door, and you will be responsible for writing down your species choice on it. Class dismissed."  
  
The classroom bubbled over with conversation once more. Small clusters of Maiar immediately stood up and approached the hanging parchment, chatting loudly as they took turns inking in their choices. After about half an hour, all but one of the wizards had left, bragging about their own personal brilliance in their decisions. The green-robed man from earlier merely sat in his seat, sighing forlornly to himself.  
  
"Have you written in your choice, Gandalf?" Optum asked, unpinning the list from the wall. Gandalf shook his head, and the professor smiled understandingly. Putting the paper into his bag, Optum said, "Come with me down the cooridor. I have a bit of time to spare." The green-robed Maiar nodded, picked up his things, and joined his teacher at the door.  
  
* * *  
  
The two wizards sauntered down the hall, their hands folded behind their backs. Optum's head was lowered, nodding deeply to what concerns his pupil was voicing to him.  
  
"I do not wish to do what everyone else is," Gandalf explained. "You saw that list - nearly every other student chose to study Elves." Optum nodded. "Yes, you are correct. Most of my pupils are planning to research Elves, a handful will do Dwarves, and an even smaller handful are studying Men. I predict I will have quite a time reading their papers." the professor joked dryly. "Also," the elder added, "you are attaining credits for the blue robe. Am I right?"  
  
Gandalf nodded. "Yes." "Well, Gandalf," Optum explained, "you are a good student - one of my best, actually - but a blue robe advancement is no simple thing. I fear your report will have to be especially creative, if you know what I mean." The student sighed, and nodded.  
  
"Yes, I know this. But, professor," he said, stopping to turn to the other, "what shall I do?"  
  
"I cannot tell you that," Optum replied, a sternness in his voice. "However, I can tell you this - you will not get enough points if you go in the direction everyone else is going. You must choose a different route." The teacher continued up the hall, departing to attend to his next appointment. Gandalf sighed once more.  
  
"But what route is it?" he asked of the empty hall. His brow furrowed in deep thought.  
  
* * *  
  
"HOBBITS?" Radagast scoffed. Gandalf glared at him, setting down a heavy book down on the desk and taking a seat opposite his companion. They were in the library. "Well," Gandalf countered, "it's the only reasonable course to take if I want my blue robe."  
  
Radagast eyed him skeptically, shaking his head. "Reasonable? Gandalf, my friend, studying hobbits is anything BUT reasonable!" Other Maiar gave him a look of annoyance, so the wizard lowered his voice. "Just do a research project on Men and get it over and done with."  
  
"What do you have against hobbits?" Gandalf asked, leaning forward as to prevent him from having to lower his voice too much. "According to this book, they seem like a handsome enough bunch." He drew back a bit, and ran his finger under a line in the book. "'Hobbits are an agricultury-centered people, residing in the land known as the Shire. They, more so than other groups, have a very tight-knit family infrastructure, and though they are not formally educated, they take a great pride in researching and sharing their family trees.'" Gandalf looked up at the other Maiar. "What on earth could make you rebuke them so?"  
  
Radagast leaned across the desk between them. "They are selfish and narrow- minded creatures, those hobbits. Worse so even than the Dwarves. They only care for themselves and their property - nothing more."  
  
Gandalf chuckled. "It is quite understandable, really. They are simply conservative. When you really get to thinking about it, what more does one need than food in their belly and friends about you?" Radagast shrugged, and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"I just hope you know what you're doing." Radagast sighed. Gandalf smiled and said, "As much as I appreciate your concern, old friend, I think it will prove to be misgiven." He closed the book with an audible thud. "Off to the Shire I go!"  
  
* * *  
  
Gandalf rode upon his wagon, snapping the reins absently every once in awhile. His head swiveled from side to side throughout the entire journey - especially once he had crossed the river that the book he had read through had called, "The Brandywine." He marveled at the immense beauty of the land, and wondered how such peace-loving creatures could maintain control over this countryside. Everything was green and blooming with life.  
  
As the sight of a village came into his view, he smiled and patted his robe pocket. Earlier, back in the Men's city of Bree, he had made a point of buying a few mushrooms to help give a little push to any potential friendships he should make during his stay.  
  
After all, he DID require a place for lodging.  
  
The small horse-drawn wagon seemed to tower over the tents of the market place on both sides of the road. Hobbit children running about stopped in their games to stare in awe at the newcomer, but were quickly ushered off by nervous adults. Gandalf frowned slightly to himself, but kept in mind that it was not a personal matter - hobbits, by nature, were frightened of "Big People," as they appropriately named them. It was atypical of them to be able to distinguish a Man and an Elf - much less, a Maiar.  
  
Time passed, and the citizens of the village continued to react to him in much the same fashion. When the wizard finally came upon the more residential section of the town, instead of running off, the hobbits ran indoors. Gandalf stared curiously at the rounded doors and windows beneath the gentle hills, wondering what the smials within must be like. The book he had read in the school's library did not cover such details of hobbit life as the innards of their homes. It was not difficult to assume that the author of the book had never entered one.  
  
As Gandalf continued forth, he realized that he was reaching the end of the village. He became a bit nervous, but he forced himself to not show it. Directing his horse to the left, he began to pass by another hobbit hole.  
  
It was actually a fairly nice-looking smial, Gandalf noted. More so than the previous ones, in any case. The yard was lined with a white picket fence, and the bushes and flowers in it were an assortment of beautiful greens, reds, and yellows. A hobbit woman - her own beauty matching that of the garden - stood sweeping the stepping stones. She wore a pink yellow- flowered dress, and a long white apron.  
  
Gandalf slowed the horse down a bit, and while he was looking at her, the woman glanced up. Tucking a long brown curly lock behind her ear, she called out with a grin, "Why, good day, sir!" The Maiar halted his steed, and stared, almost disbelieving, at the woman.  
  
She was the first to greet him.  
  
Regaining his composure, the wizard returned the smile. "And a good day to you, madam." A mischievous grin crossed the woman's lips as she held her broom upright with one hand, and set the other on her hip.  
  
"And what do you mean?" she inquired. "Do you wish me a good day, or mean that is a good day whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this day; or that it is a good day to be good on?"  
  
The Maiar was quite baffled by this for quite some time. Several questions crossed his mind at once. Was she being serious? How come was it that she had the deceiving appearance of being quiet when in actuallity, she talked so much - all in one sentence, even? And finally, what question to answer first?  
  
"All of them, I suppose." Gandalf said cautiously. The woman put a hand to her face and giggled fitfully. "I beg your pardon, sir," she laughed. "Just a wee bit of fun."  
  
"Quite all right, quite all right," he assured her enthusiastically. A hobbit was speaking with him! He smiled. "I had a feeling this would be a good day when I awoke this morning. A good day for traveling, and a good day for meeting new people."  
  
"In that case," she said, still grinning, "you must be hungry. Might I interest you in joining me for Elevenzies?" Gandalf nodded and proceeded to tie his horse to a tree and feed him. Meanwhile, the hobbit propped up her broom against the outside of the smial, and went inside to fetch a few things. In a matter of minutes, the two sat at a little white table on the lawn, a plate of crumpets and cups of tea before them.  
  
"I never did learn your name," the Maiar said after a first sip of his tea. "Nor did I learn yours." They chuckled, and the hobbit woman took a bite from her crumpet. "In any case, my name is Mrs. Belladonna Baggins. Bella will be just fine though. What might yours be?"  
  
"Gandalf." The man laughed. "I fear I have no nickname." Bella laughed as well, and her gaze turned to the right, eyeing the door. After a time, the Maiar too turned to see what she was staring at.  
  
A very cross-looking hobbit man stood within the round doorway. His arms were folded tightly over his chest, and not even his great mass of brown curls could conceal the sour glare he was currently giving the intruder. Finding the sight very humorous indeed, Gandalf struggled to supress the laughter that threatened to erupt from himself. Bella, however, chuckled.  
  
"Bungo, dear, I would like for you to meet Gandalf! Gandalf, this is my husband, Bungo Baggins." A smile filled with pride crossed her lips. "He built me this smial, you know."  
  
"Really?" Gandalf asked, intrigued. He turned back to the angry hobbit. "And quite a fantastic job you did! It's absolutely stunning." The smoke he could have sworn having seen come from Bungo's ears did not diminish. He continued to glower at the wizard suspiciously.  
  
"Come now," Belladonna coaxed, "join us. We were just having Elevenzies." "No thank you," Bungo replied gruffly. However, he took a seat in the swinging seat on the porch, continuing to look at Gandalf as before. His wife gave a roll of her eyes, and sighed as she poured some more tea into the wizard's cup.  
  
"Quite a husband you have there," Gandalf said, nodding thankfully and placing the tea to his lips. After setting down the cup again, he elaborated, "Not quick to trust strangers - especially when it comes to his wife being with them." Belladonna chuckled and replied, her hands about her own cup, "Oh, he'll get over it. He's really quite a gentleman once you get to know him." The Maiar chuckled. "I'm quite sure he is. I just hope it takes him short of three months' time to stop seeing me as an intruder."  
  
Bungo leaned forward in his chair, his eyes focused upon something nervously. A small form sat beneath the table, sitting on its hands on knees. The two chatting adults, however, were oblivious to it.  
  
"What happens after three months?" Bella inquired, taking another sip of her tea.  
  
A small hand poked out from beneath the table.  
  
"You see," Gandalf explained, "I am a wizard. And in order to gain status, you must pass certain courses. My newest assignment is to."  
  
.And the hand slipped into Gandalf's pocket.  
  
Stopping in mid-sentence, the wizard seized the wrist. He looked down at it slowly, the fingers still wriggling to retrieve one of the prized mushrooms. Realizing that something had indeed gone wrong in his plan, a head poked out from beneath the table.  
  
"Bilbo!" Bella gasped. Her mouth fell open.  
  
"My," Gandalf observed, a smirk playing on his lips, "quite a little burglar we have here. He almost got away with it too!"  
  
Bungo had stood up by this time, gripping the broom his wife had set down earlier. He held it up, ready to defend his son if the stranger should prove dangerous, but the smile the Maiar gave disarmed him. Blinking curiously, the hobbit lowered his weapon.  
  
The child shook his head to remove the brown curls from his eyes. When he could see properly, he gazed up at the old man. "Mushrooms!"  
  
"Bilbo," Bella scorned again, glaring at her child. She then turned to Gandalf, a regretful look on her face. "Oh, I'm sorry, Gandalf. Really, I don't know what got into him."  
  
"Quite all right, quite all right," the wizard assured her for a second time. He released the four-year-old's wrist, and the boy drew back beneath the table once more. As the woman sighed, Gandalf secretly passed a mushroom to the lad as a reward. Bilbo grinned happily, and consumed the treat in one bite.  
  
Belladonna and Gandalf continued their conversation, talking of everything imaginable.  
  
Bungo eventually joined them.  
  
* * *  
  
Many years passed, and Gandalf returned to the school of wizardry. He, obviously enough, got his advancement, and received his blue robe. It was the same blue robe that he returned to Bag End wearing, some forty-six years later.  
  
"Good morning!" said Bilbo, not quite recognizing the man, but wanting to be polite in any case.  
  
Remembering a conversation he had long ago, Gandalf said, "What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"  
  
"All at once," replied the surprised hobbit. "And a very fine morning it is!" Time passed, and the conversation continued back and forth until Gandalf finally said, "What a lot of things you do use, 'Good morning!' for! Now you mean that you want to get rid of me, and that it won't be good till I move off."  
  
"Not at all, not at all, my dear sir!" Bilbo was quite tired, but reluctant to offend the man. "Let me see, I don't think I know your name?"  
  
"Yes, yes," Gandalf assured him, "my dear sir - and I do know your name, Mr. Bilbo Baggins. And you do know my name, though you don't remember that I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me! To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if I was selling buttons at the door!"  
  
"Gandalf, Gandalf!" the hobbit exclaimed, an excitement surging through him. "Good gracious me! Not the wandering wizard that gave Old Took a pair of magic diamond studs that fastened themselves and never came undone till ordered? Not the fellow that." Mr. Bilbo Baggins proceeded to name a series of acts to which the wizard was not responsible for, but they were fancy enough feats to be readily claimed. It seems that Belladonna's stories of him and some other magic-doer had somehow become mixed over the years.  
  
After Bilbo had finished, a twinkle filled the wizard's eye that seemed to tell of his situation at hand. He spoke slowly, so that the hobbit might hear clearly each word.  
  
"I am in dire need of a burglar."  
  
Author's Second Note: Most of the dialogue in the last scene was from The Hobbit. Honestly, I'm not THAT good. =) Please review, and I hope you enjoyed it! 


End file.
